The Fence || h. s.

21 || A Real Piece Of Work

Looks like there isn't a single living creature that would not fall victim to this man's charm. 

It takes some more blind poking and prodding, but I finally manage to insert the damn key into the right place. The gate flows open, allowing the second cat to slip between my legs and into my garden. 

"Stay away from my flowers, Bowie!" I yell in a futile warning. 

Harry saunters in after me, regarding me with a look of mild amusement. 

"Wait, it was the cat lady's house!" he bellows triumphantly as if he's just discovered some deeply hidden secret. 

"Wow. You're a genius," I deadpan. 

"Hold up," he mumbles with a pout. "I talked to her the other day, asking 'bout you…she completely misguided me! Not nice. Now we have beef." 

I'm momentarily confused until it dawns on me that he must be the man Georgie had spoken of the other day. Still reeling over the whole stalker problem, I instantly assumed that it must have been some fan looking for me. But, of course, it was Harry… which is, admittedly, a huge relief. At least this means one item off my long list of problems. 

"She knows not to speak about me, cause, y'know…" It's so weird to be able to discuss this with him now. "Fans." 

"Smart," he remarks. "I guess I'll have to forgive her, albeit reluctantly." 

"You still found me regardless of her lies. How did you manage that anyway?" I finally word the single question that's been bugging me since he had spotted me on the street earlier. 

He shrugs. "Well, to be fair, you didn't give me much to go on. All I knew was that your house was about thirty minutes jogging distance down the beach, though you did mention living close to The Hideout once. It narrowed my search significantly." 

"Oh." So it was my favourite café, located just minutes away from my street, that gave me away. "What were you even thinking, H? Were you going to knock on every single door in the area asking about a nameless redhead, hoping one day, I would be the one to answer?" 

"I had to do something," comes his sheepish response. "Desperate times call for desperate measures." 

Suddenly I'm giggling, hit with a hilarious vision of what could have happened had Harry Styles been recognised while asking around for some girl. 

"I just realised…" I shake my head in disbelief. "Imagine the headlines if anyone spilled that story to the paps. Harry Styles: gone off the rails again? Fans spotted the popstar creeping around the streets of Malibu." 

We send a fleeting glance at each other, both snorting out a laugh. 

"Still can't believe you got so lucky," I add. 

He hums, a smile playing at his lips. "I reckon there must be some higher power watching over me… Or rather, us." 

I scoff at the incredulous and utterly romanticised notion. 

Eventually, we enter my house through the backdoor, Harry finally setting Grande down on the floor. She makes a straight beeline towards my bedroom, no doubt in pursuit of any stray socks laying around. 

Suddenly remembering to double-check the lock, I turn around only to bump into Harry whose arm instinctively shoots out to steady me. Our eyes lock for a split second; an odd energy passes between us as we're both obviously having the exact same flashbacks of the last time he had embraced me, during our dance at Kendall's yacht. 

I stare up at him wordlessly, trying to appear unaffected when in reality, all my senses are wrapped up in the fact that this is H. My H. It's the same person I've been hanging out with for weeks, but at the same time, he's also Harry Styles whom I had foolishly chosen to engage in a flirting game with.